


Salvage

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Series: Haunted [9]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-05
Updated: 2011-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:58:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is the Point Man, which means he's responsible for the background information for the team. It means he's responsible for keeping the members of the team alive. But what happens if one of the team isn't trustworthy?</p><p>For the prompt <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/17044.html?thread=35663508#t35663508">"Arthur, I've seen you die dozens of times in dreams. How should this be any different?"</a></p><p>There are no detailed descriptions, but this also has mentions of rape and violence in the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salvage

"I don't like this."

"Of course you don't," Eames scoffed, looking at Arthur across the living room. He was scowling at his computer, hacking his way through bank accounts to track their subject's movements financially over the past ten years. "You hate Marco."

He looked up in annoyance. "Marco is an asshole that sometimes takes on other jobs to double cross the original client if the pay isn't to his liking, and he's gotten two teams caught in Vienna last year. Of course I hate Marco."

"Nearly getting his throat slit apparently changed that. Or did you not pick up on that for your dossier?" Eames asked, unable to help needling Arthur.

"I don't care how many new scars he has. The last job anyone knows he did the extraction for ended badly. It was a two extractor job, and the other one was found floating in a reservoir two weeks later." Arthur scowled at Eames. "I know Xavier vouched for him, but I don't trust him."

"At least Ariadne's starting to get range time," Eames pointed out. "The Beretta was a cute Christmas gift."

Arthur refused to be mollified. "She's going with _Sandrine._ You know she's going to talk about movies or actors or something and not get proper range time."

"That's why we have our dream training and range time with her," Eames said with a shrug. "You were fine with this job when Xavier gave it to us."

"That was because Marco wasn't involved then. I'm just glad they have their own architect. I don't want Ariadne near Marco."

"He's _not_ that bad..."

"Tell that to Julienne."

Eames had the grace to flinch. Julienne had been a rather big name in the dream share community in Shanghai three years ago; in a spectacular fuck up in Zaire, Marco had cut his losses on the job. He had sold out the team, raped Julienne while she was still hooked up to the PASIV and left his team to escape the incoming mercenaries. Julienne was the only member of the team to survive the mercenaries, mostly because they kept her for their twisted amusement. She had to bide her time until she could fight her way out of their hiding place, and even then it was a close thing. She currently lived in Shanghai and needed a cane to walk, as well as regular physical therapy in order to use her arms. It was known that if Marco went anywhere near Asia, she wanted his head on a platter. She couldn't make the hit unconditional because he had mercenary and mafia backing in Europe and North Africa.

Eames didn't even try to joke about that or deflect the discussion by teasing Arthur about his relationship with Julienne the way he might have even the year before. "He had issues with her, though. He doesn't pull shit like that for no reason. And I've worked with the bloke twice before. Both were on the up and up, no bullshit."

"All it takes is once, Eames," Arthur intoned, clearly still not happy with the situation.

"Xavier is the one watching over us while we go in. You don't have to worry about that, at least."

Arthur looked at from under his eyelashes over the edge of his laptop. "This isn't worry. This is being _concerned._ This is wanting to come home to Ariadne in one piece."

Eames sighed. "You're borrowing trouble."

"I'm the point man on this. I'm supposed to," he said shortly. "And with Marco on board, there are too many wild cards to plan for."

Moving to sit beside Arthur, Eames put a hand on his arm. "We'll be all right, Arthur. We'll get through it."

Arthur nodded, then looked back to his laptop. There was more to lose now than a year ago before their relationship had begun, though it wasn't something he wanted to say out loud after all his assurances that their romantic relationship wouldn't interfere with their professional one. He did look up with a soft smile when Eames brushed a kiss against his temple before standing up. "You're going to tail the girlfriend again?"

"She's an _entertainer,"_ Eames replied, mimicking the woman's Swedish accent. He smirked at Arthur's amused grin, then got ready to go out. He had work to do, too.

***

The subject was Antonio Balducci, the fifty-four year old business manager for an international shipping company. He had three ex-wives, four children in three different countries and mob ties in two other ones. His current girlfriend was the twenty year old Swedish model and lounge singer that Eames was following, who was the stepdaughter of a rival shipping magnate. She had no contact with her stepfather, but the tie was enough to let Balducci lean heavily on business associates for higher pay. He intimated that he was working together with his rival, which some contacts actually believed. His mob ties were starting to suspect that this tactic wasn't entirely for their benefit, as they saw little of the increased revenue Balducci often claimed he was getting. Xavier was hired to lead a team into Balducci's mind to find out what was really going on.

Balducci wasn't militarized, at least, but he had impressive security at his home and office. The current plan was to get to him during an elaborate dinner party that his girlfriend's mother was throwing for the glitterati. He tended to drink heavily, and sometimes wound up sleeping through parts of those parties in the past. There wouldn't be much time to work with, but going a few layers down should give them enough time to get an idea of what his books were like.

Xavier had initially hired on Arthur and Eames for the job, and his architect friend had already started designing levels. Uncovering some of the financial tangles had also revealed other ties before the two known mafia links, so Xavier had wound up hiring Marco as a second extractor. Marco was ruthless about getting information he was hired to get, though getting out of the situation with the information had led to so much discord. Xavier was friendly with Arthur and Eames, and decided to stay alert and to protect the others under sedation. Marco was good, but he wasn't always worth the hassle of hiring him.

Breaking into the villa where the party would take place wasn't very difficult. Xavier wrangled an invitation to the party, posing as an associate of Balducci's to the girlfriend's mother. He would keep an eye on Balducci at the party, then lead him somewhere private to sleep off the "alcohol" in the drink Xavier would slip him. From there, Marco, Arthur and Eames would be able to get to work, with two of Xavier's friends as the dreamers for the upper levels. Everyone would then leave before anyone knew what had happened. Once Xavier was sure they were gone, he would be able to make a graceful exit from the villa.

That was the plan. As Arthur had feared, not all things went according to plan.

***

Balducci's mind was a tangled mess. The levels were fairly straightforward, and he was so drunk before Xavier even got him sedated that it was easy to find him and push him down farther into the dreams. Marco was a tall, gangling man, and didn't even bother to hide himself in the levels before Balducci was found. He massacred projections left and right and put a gun to Balducci's head in the third level. "Tell me what you did with Georgio," he snarled, the barrel of his Sig Sauer level with Balducci's forehead. His finger was on the trigger and all he had to do was exert a little more pressure before Balducci's brains would be splashed on the concrete floor.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Arthur hissed, glaring at Marco. "Stick to the plan."

Marco's lips thinned as he pulled them back to bare his teeth. "New plan. Tell me what you did with Georgio."

"Fuck you," Balducci spat. "Cordoni scum."

Arthur wanted to slit Marco's throat on the spot. Borrowing trouble? Ha. His concern was now a full fledged worry; if Marco was going to fuck everything up for a personal vendetta, they'd never get the information they wanted. The mafia would kill them all just out of spite, thinking they were screwing around.

"Listen. We have Marta," Arthur began, trying to stick with the plan. "All we need is the combination to get your books." He glared at Marco as if the man would spontaneously combust in real life if he stared hard enough.

"Fucking whore," Balducci replied, lip curling in disgust. There was something that didn't ring true with the words, however. "Keep her. She's gotten too expensive."

Goddammit. Arthur's eyes flicked over to Eames, who was still wearing Marta's form inside the gag and ropes. They weren't tied too tight, just enough that it would look real enough for Balducci. But Balducci's eyes were on Marco, and they _knew_ each other.

Well, never let it be said that Arthur didn't know how to improvise.

He swept his arm up, knocking Marco's gun hand up and away from Balducci's head. In the same fluid motion, he spun around and struck his elbow into Marco's solar plexus, making him gasp for breath. He then swept his leg out, striking the side of Marco's knee and dislocating the patella. Marco wheezed, unable to scream, his gun dropping from nerveless fingers. Arthur pressed his Glock into Balducci's belly, eyes hard and flat. "I want your books, Balducci. You can have him," he added, nodding toward Marco, "once I get what I want."

Balducci's lips split into a grin. "You don't work for Cordoni, do you?"

"No."

"And you don't work for me. Freelance? Bah. You won't get far." He sat back. "I give you nothing."

Arthur pulled the trigger without flinching. Balducci howled and strained at his bonds. It would take probably a half hour for Balducci to bleed out from the gut shot, and it would hurt the entire time. "Where are your books?" Arthur asked calmly.

"Fuck you," Balducci wheezed between gasps of pain.

Arthur whirled around and aimed at Marta's tied up form. She froze, eyes wide with terror. "Shall she go next?"

Sweat broke out along Balducci's temples. "You don't dare," he rasped.

"You didn't think I'd shoot you," Arthur replied evenly, eyes dark and jaw clenched. "Care to second guess me again?"

"You get nothing if you kill her."

"I prove I'm still willing to hurt you however I can."

The silence hung between them, tension rising with every passing second. Arthur could maintain his one armed position indefinitely in a dream, no muscle tiredness to contend with. Balducci's lip trembled slightly under the weight of Arthur's glare. "My office," he sighed suddenly. "Wall safe, the combination is 31-22-7."

Arthur nodded brusquely and relaxed his stance. He didn't put up the Glock, but did remove the bonds around Eames and Balducci. "I keep my promises," Arthur said shortly. He exchanged a quick glance with Eames before looking over at Marco's sprawled form. He had been trying to pull himself out of the way, as his knee wasn't working any longer. "He's yours," Arthur told Balducci. "I don't care what you do with him."

He hurried out of the warehouse that Xavier's architect had designed, and heard Balducci attempt to comfort Marta even as he made threats to Marco. Eames would see that Balducci was occupied long enough for Arthur to get what he needed. That part could still go according to plan.

But once he woke up? He was going to kill Marco. Fuck this shit. He was done being worried about what the asshole would do. He was corrupting the job and bringing personal matters into it, and could have gotten them all kicked out of the dream.

Inside of Balducci's office, he thought he heard a vague booming sound. There was no way to tell what it was, even when it repeated. He memorized the names and account numbers, as well as a few key figures from the books. He would be damned to get this far and not have the information that he had come for. Balducci was dirty in every sense of the word, and he would get what was coming to him from his backers. He didn't need Marco's help to die. He was doing a good enough job on his own.

Eames was suddenly at the doorway. "We're out of time."

An explosion rocked the office building, and Arthur looked up in alarm. "What happened?"

"Marco had a grenade. I managed to get out of the way, but now they're up in Hester's level."

"Fuck. That must be the boom I heard."

Eames blinked. "I hadn't heard anything." He looked around. "We're still stable, so Hester's still in control of the second level."

"I got what we came for," Arthur said, standing. "We can get out of here."

Neither man blinked as they put their guns to their heads and pulled the trigger, though it was odd to be staring into each others' eyes as they did it. Arthur couldn't help but think of Ariadne, hoping they would get the chance to see her again if Marco continued to fuck things up.

***

Hester's level was chaos. Arthur woke in the same position he had been in when they went down a level into his dream, but he was the only one in the room. Scowling, he disengaged himself from the PASIV and stalked outside of the dingy motel room. There was a riot in the street, and Arthur couldn't see anyone he recognized. He was tempted to just kill himself the rest of the way to consciousness, but he didn't want to leave Eames behind. He could dream up a cell phone on each of them, but he didn't know if it would get Eames into trouble if he was in the middle of the riot.

Screw it. He was doing it anyway.

"Where are you?" he asked tersely.

"Not a good time, Arthur," Eames replied, no levity in his tone at all. Arthur could hear the rattle of machine gun fire and bombs going off. "Can't find our girl anywhere, but she's still around somewhere. Can't find Marco or Balducci either."

"I'm outside the motel, and no one's here. We need to go a level up."

"It won't be any safer."

"We need to get _out._ I'll meet you when we're conscious."

Arthur hung up after Eames' terse "Fine," and shot himself in the head again.

He woke in Bernard's level. His breath puffed out from the cold, and he looked around in confusion. This wasn't what it had looked like when he had gone under with the rest of the team either. Something was very wrong, and he couldn't tell what it was. Balducci's secrets were still firmly in his mind, and he needed to get out as quickly as possible. Arthur could hear the sharp report of gunfire outside the cold room he was in, which seemed to resolve into a meat locker.

What the hell?

Arthur stood up abruptly, banging into the shelving when his body refused to work the way he wanted it to. He heard a groan behind him, and turned around in time to see Eames begin to stir. Arthur reached out for him just as heavy boxes of frozen food crashed down on top of them.

"I thought you were more graceful than that, darling," Eames said in dry tones as Arthur woke in the spare bedroom the team had started in at the beginning of the job.

Sitting up, Arthur had a splitting headache. Three rapid head wound deaths would do that, but he didn't have the luxury of waiting until it passed. He rubbed his temples and looked up. "We need to get the hell out of here. We need to wake Hester and Bernard."

"What about Marco?"

"Hang him out to dry. He fucked it up, and it's lucky I was able to salvage anything," Arthur replied in a clipped voice. "I'm not going to die for his personal vendetta."

Eames raised an eyebrow at his tone. "Wow."

"He burns too many people. He's not going to get the opportunity to burn us again," Arthur told him, jaw set. "Let's start it up to wake the others." He looked around and noticed something. "Wait. Where's Xavier?"

Everyone was there except Xavier, but there was blood on the floor. "This isn't good," Eames said softly.

"Wake them up," Arthur said, starting to disengage their lines. "We'll need Hester's aim."

"Fuck," Eames began to mutter softly, shaking his head. "We're not going to get a coordinated kick. We're both up."

"Hell with coordination. Just get them up!"

Eames started decreasing the dose of somnacin and sedation on the lines feeding Hester and Bernard. He upped the sedation for Balducci, but paused over Marco's line. "Arthur..." He looked at Eames incredulously, his Glock in hand. "He hasn't done me a bad turn, Arthur."

"He is now," Arthur pointed out.

"Shit follows you, Arthur. I do this and he knows we did it, he _will_ screw us if we work with him ever again. I'm neutral in his books, and right now so are you."

"Nobody stays neutral with people like him."

A shout from outside the room cut off Eames' reply. He pushed the sedation on Marco's line and dropped the somnacin dose before standing up. He had his USP Compact hidden by his jacket, and he shook his head ruefully. "You do realize just about every job we've worked on together has gone to shit in some way?"

Arthur's lips curled into a smile as he acknowledged the statement. "Well, at least we're in good company when it all goes to hell."

Eames chuckled as he pulled his gun from its holster. He checked the magazine, just to be sure it was full, and checked the chamber. Xavier had never been the type to screw with the people he worked with, but it was worth checking if Xavier had been the source of the blood on the floor. There was no way to tell who else might have been in the room, and the last thing he needed was to pull the trigger and have it dry fire because the magazine was empty.

Hester rolled to her side and dry heaved. Bernard was groaning, arms twitching restlessly. "Oh, god, what the fuck?" he groaned, Irish accent thicker than usual.

Hester looked up at Arthur and Eames in dismay. The PASIV line had pulled out of her arm when she had rolled from her prone position, and she looked at their drawn guns. "Where's Xavier?" she asked, rubbing her temples.

"Bloody fucking hell. I knew asking that arse to the party was going to bite us in the end," Bernard growled, eying Marco.

Eames ignored the pointed stare Arthur gave him. "We got everything we needed, but now we need to get the hell out."

"Voices in the hallway," Arthur said, ear pressed close to the jamb. "I can't make it out, but no one sounds alarmed yet. You can probably go out the window."

"You can't just leave me going out a window!" Bernard protested, yanking out the PASIV tubing.

"Goddammit, this was supposed to be an easy job," Hester said, looking around in panic once she saw the blood on the floor.

"Window," Arthur said, nodding toward the window behind them. "Eames and I can probably cover this exit if we have to. You need to protect Bernard on the way out."

"You're still going to try to complete the job?" she asked incredulously.

"It's all we've got now," Arthur replied, nodding. "Xavier's a pro. We'll catch up with him and we'll get out."

"We don't even know what happened," Hester protested.

"Just meet up as planned," Eames said, beginning to usher the two toward the window.

"Don't have to tell me twice," Bernard grumbled, shaking his head. "Last time I help like this, I swear."

"You sure you won't need me here with you?" Hester asked uncertainly. She had a Browning in her jacket pocket as well as extra magazines. Xavier had said she was a bit overcautious when she decided to go on a job, but right now Eames and Arthur both appreciated that.

"We all just need to get out and regroup. All right?"

Hester nodded and followed Bernard out of the window. Eames shut it again and went to Arthur's side. "Are you sure that was a good idea? She's an excellent shot."

Arthur looked at Eames grimly. "I lied."

"What?"

"I can hear what they're saying out there. They know we're in here, they know that Balducci is hooked in. They're waiting for Marco's signal."

"What?!" he hissed, incredulous. "Why the fuck would he do this?"

"It doesn't matter now," Arthur said tiredly, rubbing his temples. God, it still hurt, and that was making it harder to think. "They didn't say anything about Xavier."

Eames looked back toward the blood stains on the carpet. "You think he's dead, don't you?"

"If Marco sold us out the way he did Julienne's team? Yeah. He's dead. They're just waiting for us to all wake up."

Sighing, Eames rubbed Arthur's arm gently. "You have a plan for this, don't you? You have a plan for everything."

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment and simply let out a breath. "Eames."

"Yes?"

"When the time comes, don't look."

He smiled sadly. "Arthur, I've seen you die dozens of times in dreams. How should this be any different?"

"Because this is real," Arthur murmured, then pulled Eames in for a desperate last kiss. "Ready?"

"No, but I'll go anyway."

"Good enough."

Arthur yanked open the door and strafed right, Glock ready and his finger on the trigger. He shot quickly and decisively, making each shot count. Eames was behind him, strafing left and moving with easy and practiced precision. Arthur did his best to ignore the burn of a bullet through his arm, but it was slowing him down. Eames was pulling ahead, and they were making their way to the rear entrance of the villa. There was no sign of Xavier, and Arthur hoped that he was simply tied up somewhere. Arthur liked him, and he was always a straightforward sort for a criminal.

He still remembered the promises he had made to his mother and Ariston. He had promised to be careful, to make it home in one piece, to be sure that nothing came back to them. He thought of Ariadne, of the goodbye kisses she had given him and Eames before watching them walk through the airline gate to fly to Spain for the job.

The wall was likely one of the few things keeping Arthur upright. His head was pounding, his arm ached, and he was close to empty on the magazine, if his cartridge count was right. It hurt too much to think, and he could feel himself crash to his knees in the hallway. Eames was ahead, all the way at the end of the hall. It wasn't fair. It wasn't supposed to end this way, bleeding out from an _arm wound_ when it had been so carefully planned.

The hallway seemed to twist, and Arthur fell to his side. Frowning deeply, he crawled across the floor toward the wall and hauled himself up it with his good arm. He couldn't see Eames any longer, and there wasn't even the sound of gunfire anymore. The hallway was twisting again, but he couldn't tell if it was the hallway or just his own sense of balance failing him.

Marco laughed beside him. "God, you're pathetic," he said, pushing a gun into his ribs. "Why does everyone think you're one of the best? You're nothing."

Something heavy crashed into the side of Marco's head, sending him flying. The gun fired, but the bullet went into the wall as Arthur fell to the floor. The hallway was twisting at a crazy angle again, and he turned around in time to see Ariadne standing there with a chair in her hands. She was perfectly balanced, moving fluidly in time to the hallway's movement. "Arthur," she said in a wry tone of voice. "This isn't what I expected of you."

"Ariadne?"

"Yes, I look like her, don't I?" she asked, head cocked to the side as the hallway continued to tilt. Arthur tumbled and fetched up against the wall. Ariadne walked along the wall and then squatted beside him. "You need to wake up. They're trying to give you the kick."

"But I _am_ awake."

She took his face in her hands, and Arthur suddenly realized that the chair was gone. She kissed him, tasting like cherry lip gloss and smelling like roses, just as she had when they departed from Paris. "Wake up, Arthur. It's time to wake up."

Pushing his Glock into his hands, Ariadne simply vanished.

Marco was gone, too. He was alone in the hallway, which was now nothing more than a blank beige room that somehow had ambient light. Arthur was able to pull himself to his feet and create a door in the wall.

Fuck. He was still dreaming.

Arthur put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. He woke in the freezer on Bernard's level, Eames shaking him. As soon as his eyes snapped open, Eames relaxed. "Good. I was afraid we'd lost you."

"We?" he asked groggily, allowing Eames to pull him to a seated position.

Hester was pacing one of the other rows in the compartment. "Marco turned on us, the fucker," she hissed. "I don't know what happened, or who those guys were. Someone came in after us, all the way the fuck down."

"Where's Balducci?"

Hester nodded toward the corner, where Balducci was sedated and tied up in the corner. "Bernard, the fuck. He has to be in on it." She touched her lip and then looked at her fingers absently. "Stopped bleeding, at least."

"We're one level down and it's his dream. Why not just kill ourselves awake?" Eames asked, shrugging. "Now that we're all awake on the same level, we can kick ourselves up another level to consciousness."

"We don't know what's up there," Arthur disagreed, putting a hand on Eames' arm. He pushed himself to a standing position. "We're still dreaming." He could feel his loaded die in his pocket, but there was no need to roll it. They were all asleep still. It was what was above them that was a problem. "He's keeping us alive for a reason. Otherwise, he could just slit our throats while we slept."

Hester sighed. "He has all the time in the world, then, because we're locked in."

"It's a _dream,_ Hester," Arthur reminded them. "We can change things."

"And set Bernard's projections on us?"

"Do it slow enough, he won't know."

Eames was warming to the idea. "Like a vent. An access panel of some sort." He went down the aisle they were in and pulled away the heavy boxes that had fallen over him and Arthur earlier. "Right here, then."

Reluctantly, Hester followed. "What about Balducci?"

"When the dream collapses, it'll make him wake up," Arthur said, gesturing for her to lead the charge through the access panel Eames had created. "You know Bernard better than we do. Where would he go to feel safe?"

Hester pressed her lips together. "If we are where I think we are, then his mother's house. It shouldn't be far."

They were indeed precisely where Hester thought they were, his uncle's restaurant in Belfast. They moved quickly, guns drawn and ready in case projections were aware of them. They drew little notice, which Arthur found to be more disconcerting.

Bernard's mother's house was a little run down home on a side street, and there was no one milling about. Piles of dead bodies riddled with bullet holes were stacked three or four high on the street. "Did someone shoot all the projections, then?" Eames asked, staring at the bloodless bodies.

"Easy way to defend yourself, then," Arthur commented, eying the house with trepidation. "What kind of weapons does he dream up?"

"Doesn't matter if we've got this," Eames replied, pulling out a rocket launcher. He grinned unrepentantly at Arthur's scowl. "Cheer up. Everything will be chaos as the dream collapses. We should be able to defend ourselves."

"Assuming we're not all tied up," Hester pointed out darkly.

"Ready?" Eames asked, looking at Arthur and Hester. Once they nodded, he fired the rocket toward the house.

It exploded into flames, and everything began to shake violently around them. "The dream is collapsing," Arthur said, looking around. It felt as if it was an earthquake.

Before Hester could say anything, a building collapsed on top of them.

They all woke to the sound of Bernard swearing up a storm while Marco tried to calm him down. "Listen. I'll take care of everything," Marco said. "They'll be up soon. Gina, push the dose."

An older woman with a swarthy complexion approached the PASIV and started adjusting the settings for the sedation. She didn't look at the others, so she didn't notice that they were awake yet. "I have enough here for another ten minutes real time."

"You didn't get anything," Bernard was hissing at Marco. "All this bullshit and you have _nothing._ Now what?"

Gina stood and glance balefully at Bernard before pushing him aside. "Marco. We have to leave _now._ Balducci will think these others were at fault."

"Cordoni won't extend your protection if you have nothing to give him," Bernard said, voice rising in desperation. None of the three were paying any attention to the others in the room, believing them to be asleep. They didn't even notice when Arthur had removed their leads from the PASIV. Arthur felt the comforting weight of his gun against his ribs in the holster. They hadn't bothered to disarm him. He slowly turned his head, taking in his position relative to Marco and Gina. They weren't looking at Arthur, but they were facing his direction. Slowly, he drew his hand across his chest and used Bernard's annoyed exhalation of breath to cover the snap as he undid the strap on his holster. He eased his Glock out, moving slow enough to avoid drawing their attention. Beside him, Eames and Hester were doing the same thing. They had only one chance to do this right.

"You have too much of a reputation," Gina was saying, voice rough with anger. "They will take his word over yours."

"Xavier's better known," Bernard agreed, shaking his head. "Cordoni will never believe he planned this."

"Shut the fuck up, both of you," Marco growled. "You knew what you were getting into. Don't get goddamn nervous now."

"No one knows I'm involved," Gina replied coolly. "You can't drag me into this one."

"This makes us even for Vienna," Marco replied, nodding.

"Which time?" Gina asked in arch tone. Marco flushed with anger. "I'll take care of Balducci's men. You worry about Cordoni."

Bernard paced jerkily when Gina left the room. "She's going to fuck us, Marco," he said, shaking his head.

"She won't. She's good that way." His smile was sharp and full of teeth. "Plus, she's useful. You, on the other hand, are easily replaceable."

Before Bernard could even react, Marco pushed a knife into his gut and pulled upward. Intestines spilled out in a hot rush, and Bernard collapsed. "They'll think it was you," he said, pushing the knife deeper as blood poured from the wound. "You got greedy, wanted all that money for yourself. You were going to kill everyone to cover it up. I had to stop you. Xavier vouched for me, after all. He was the only one still willing to work with me here." Marco had his hand over Bernard's mouth, no expression on his face as Bernard tried to hold his guts inside himself. He looked up with a vaguely betrayed expression, as if he had expected Marco to pull this _later,_ not now, not before they had even gotten away.

Bernard gurgled and fell over. Marco turned to look at the others and was startled to see three guns pointed at him. "Well, damn."

"Who hired you, then?" Hester said in a sharp voice. "Or is this just another one of your little games?"

Marco lifted his hands up. He was covered in blood. "Are you going to shoot me, then?"

"Who hired you?" she repeated.

"There's an easier way around this," Arthur said, getting to his feet. Eames rolled to his feet as well, covering Arthur as he approached Marco. "It's not Cordoni, since he's the one that we're supposed to give the information about Balducci's books to. My guess is Ventari, the consigliere." Marco's expression was flat as Arthur pointed the Glock at him. "Or perhaps it was Wellner. It's pretty obvious he wants Cordoni's territory." Marco's eyes flicked from Arthur to Eames and Hester. Arthur took the gun and pistol whipped Marco across the face. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, Marco."

"You don't scare me, Arthur," Marco hissed. "You know nothing."

Not knowing if Marco had men stationed outside of the room, he wasn't willing to shoot. He didn't have a suppressor; he hadn't expected to need one despite all of his plans and preparation for this. He'd chalk that up to underestimating Marco and simply bring one next time. Hester's oversupply of magazines made sense now. Arthur drove his knee into Marco's groin and brought his elbows down into Marco's spine when he doubled over in pain. He fell when Marco pulled him down to the ground, but he got his leg across Marco's throat and pushed his Glock into Marco's belly. The man froze, not sure what Arthur was willing to do; Arthur was known for being thorough, but no one really discussed his physical or armed skills.

Arthur eyed Eames and then flicked his eyes toward the window behind him wordlessly. Eames nodded sharply and relaxed his stance enough to get by them. Hester followed him, but didn't stop herself from driving a wicked kick into Marco's groin with the toes of a boot. Marco groaned, but was effectively held in place by Arthur's leg and Glock pinned to his stomach. Hester took a sharp indrawn breath when she saw Xavier on the floor, a neat bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

Following her line of sight, Arthur's lips compressed into a fine line. He liked Xavier. He was a good fence in Paris and Geneva, and he had a wide network of contacts throughout Western Europe. He dealt fairly with everyone he worked with, even Marco.

Cold rage flowed through Arthur. No one fucked with his friends that way.

He took the discarded, bloody knife and Marco's eyes bulged when Arthur leaned into his trachea, cutting off his air supply. Efficiently, Arthur cut the Achilles tendons and hamstrings on Marco's legs, then sliced across his wrists deep enough for the knife to scrape against bone. He then drove the knife through the bony parts of one shoulder, hard enough so that the blade hit the floorboards. The shoulder was highly vascular, and blood pooled around the knife in time with his heartbeat. He would bleed out in minutes. Marco wouldn't be able to pull out the knife on his own, as the tendons of both wrists were cut, and even if Gina returned, he would never be able to walk away.

"This is a kinder death than you deserve," Arthur hissed, eyes narrow. "But it'll have to do. I don't have time to give you a proper death." He took Marco's watch from his wrist and stuffed it into his pocket. "I'll tell Julienne you said hello."

Arthur got up and swiftly went to the window before Marco could even suck in a breath. Eames was waiting, and helped him cross over the threshold and close the window without leaving bloody prints behind.

No one stopped them as they left the villa grounds.

***

Ariadne accompanied Arthur and Eames to Xavier's memorial service. Hester had told them about it, not realizing that Arthur knew what name Xavier would be buried under. Cordoni had actually paid them extra once Arthur outlined Marco's treachery, and he confirmed that Balducci had woken up to find himself in a room with three dead men. No one knew who Gina was or what her involvement had been, and Cordoni hadn't cared enough to track her down.

Ariadne sat between Arthur and Eames at the service, holding each of their hands. She hadn't said much when they had returned to Paris and told her what had happened, merely held them close and kissed their faces. If Arthur held her a little too tightly, she didn't say anything about it. If Eames watched Arthur a little too closely, it wasn't commented on. Two days after Xavier's service, Arthur had received a card and a Swiss bank account routing number from Julienne. "That wasn't why I did it," Arthur had said, tossing the card aside. It was his first comment on the situation after returning home to Paris.

"Who was she?" Ariadne asked, picking up the card and looking at the number on it.

"She's the one that got me into dream share after I left the army," Arthur said quietly, jaw set. "The program I was in was a smoke screen, a nice little cover for secrets bought and sold by generals." He swung his eyes toward Ariadne. "If I was going to be used that way, it should be on my own terms."

She nodded and wrapped her arms around him. "She probably doesn't know how else to say thank you."

"I didn't do it for her. He killed Xavier."

Eames came in and kissed Arthur's temple. There were no words for this kind of grief, and he didn't bother to try to make anything up. He let his hand run down the back of Arthur's neck in a soothing gesture. "We're here, Arthur. As long as you need us to be."

It was just the right thing to say, and the three of them simply held onto each other for a long time.

The End.


End file.
